


Joy

by Kass



Category: Killjoys (TV), The Great British Bake Off RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:35:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16839952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/pseuds/Kass
Summary: "Joy doesn't grow on trees," Sandi rebuffs him. "And it's a good thing you won't find any in the tent today either.""Because our contestants would kill for it?" Noel grins."Got it in one," Sandi agrees. "Let's go meet our bakers."





	Joy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sanj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanj/gifts).



"Noel, what are you doing?" Sandi asks, walking across the grass toward her colleague.

Noel, today wearing a shirt that displays a scattering of planets and moons, has his hands clenched around the trunk of a slender tree and is shaking it from side to side, dislodging an occasional leaf that drifts lazily onto his head.

"Isn't it obvious?" Noel asks, pausing for a moment to turn toward Sandi, as always ignoring the cameras rolling. "I'm shaking the joy tree."

"Joy doesn't grow on trees," Sandi rebuffs him. "And it's a good thing you won't find any in the tent today either."

"Because our contestants would kill for it?" Noel grins.

"Got it in one," Sandi agrees. "Let's go meet our bakers."

* * *

"So, D'avin," says Noel, standing with Paul and Pru at D'avin's baking station. Noel's shirt today displays a scattering of planets and moons, an obvious comment on the season's contestants. "Tell us about your biscuit."

"It's a traybake designed to look like a ration bar," D'av says, measuring flour as he talks, "but it won't taste like one."

Paul raises an eyebrow. "Ration bars: you were in the army, then."

D'av returns his gaze, not flinching. "What gave it away."

"And they'll be flavored with sour cherries and citrus peel, I see," Pru observes, gesturing toward the items on the end of the baking table.

"And this?" Paul asks, picking up the bottle of hokk.

"The dried fruits macerate for five minutes before going in the dough. I learned that one from Pree." D'av flashes a grin.

"So a ration bar, but one that tastes good. Interesting," Paul says.

"If you're trying to intimidate me, you're going to have to try a lot harder than that."

"Moving along," Noel chirps, and makes a beeline for the next station.

* * *

"Are you kidding me?" Delle Seyah Kendry asks, glaring at Noel. "The Nine don't bake." She gestures impatiently toward the ingredients at the end of her baking station. "We have servants to do that for us."

"And yet here you are," Noel observes, amusement in his eyes.

"This is a terrible idea. I considered just refusing -- I don't do stupid team-building exercises -- but Aneela convinced me otherwise."

"So what are you making?"

Delle Seyah heaves a theatrical sigh. "Lace biscuits."

"A challenging choice for someone who doesn't bake," Noel points out.

"Go away."

* * *

"They're called Pearls In Gilded Cages," Dutch tells the judges. She's measuring chunks of white chocolate on her scale before putting them in a double boiler.

"'Gilded Cages,'" Paul repeats.

"The symbolism is rather obvious," Dutch notes tartly. "Qresh isn't known for its subtlety."

"I've seen these before," Pru says. "The pearls are dipped in a tempered glaze, then topped with spun sugar."

"And as a Killjoy you've had ample opportunity to practice your spun-sugar work." Paul sounds dubious.

"My childhood teacher was very exacting," Dutch parries. "One doesn't readily forget such lessons."

* * *

"Honey," says Pree to Sandi, "I'm the only person in this room who's actually comfortable in the kitchen." His eyeshadow today is lavender and purple with sparkly flair at the edges. It complements his lavender bakeware.

"Though you're usually behind a bar, not a stove," Sandi points out.

"And that's why I'm making rum balls. You want to see where I come from; I'm taking you to the Royale."

"Are you concerned about making a no-bake biscuit for the biscuit challenge?"

"Oh, I'm also making dirty biscuits with two kinds of brandy. They'll go side-by-side."

"Ambitious," Sandi says approvingly.

Pree gives her a flirtatious smile. "Once you've tasted what I bring to the party, honey, there's no going back."

* * *

"Of course I'm taking this seriously," says Turin. "I'm the highest-ranking Killjoy in the room; I'm not letting those little punks outbake me. Team Awesome Force my ass."

"So what's your biscuit?" Noel asks.

"Ginger biscuit," Turin says, and then scowls. "Don't say it."

"Not saying a word." Noel raises his hands and backs away slowly.

* * *

"Johnny Jacobis, tell me about your biscuits," Pru invites. She and Paul and Noel are clustered at the end of Johnny's baking station.

"This is a simple sugar biscuit dough," Johnny explains. "Lucy found the recipe for me, and helped me adapt it for these baking conditions -- humidity in the tent, things like that."

"And these are your molds," Pru prompts, pointing to the coppery trays witht their shallow leaf-shaped indentations.

"Mm-hmm. The biscuits come out shaped like leaves, as you can see. I'll tip them with green frosting to represent the sap of life."

"Sap of life," Paul repeats. "That's a Scarback recipe."

"'And the roots grew,'" Johnny quotes in agreement.

"This challenge is supposed to illustrate where you come from," Paul notes, "but you aren't a Scarback."

"Actually my mother used to make these."

"You can't possibly remember that," calls D'av from his table.

"I remember you wouldn't shut up about them," Johnny calls back, then turns back to Paul and Pru. "I'm also making them in memory of a friend of mine who died not long ago."

"Praise the trees," Noel says, with surprising gentleness.

* * *

"Fancy, tell us what you're making," asks Paul. He and Pru and Sandi and Noel are watching Fancy work.

"This is a biscuit my grandfather used to make," Fancy explains, mixing flour and oil with his fingers. "I start with the flour and the sesame oil. Then I'll blend honey, ginger, and some hokk, and add those to this to make a dough that I'll chill for about 20 minutes."

"And what shape will your final biscuits be?" Pru asks.

Fancy flashes her a smile. "Should look like flowers when I'm done."

"Now these are fried, aren't they," Pru says.

"And then soaked in honey," Fancy agrees.

"You're stretching the definition of a biscuit," Noel points out. "That's risky."

Fancy's smile is tight. "I take a lot of risks. They'll be the best thing yout taste today."

"Confident," Noel says approvingly. "I like it."

* * *

"Bakers!" Sandi calls. "You have ten minutes to complete your biscuit challenge."

"If your biscuits aren't at the end of your station in ten minutes, there'll be no joy in Westerley," Noel adds.

"Not possibly true," Sandi objects.

"Well, close to true," Noel corrects her. "But how about, no joy in your wallets?"

"We're not putting joy in their wallets in any event."

"And now you only have nine minutes." Noel smiles beatifically.

"Nine minutes until Paul and Pru take out a warrant... to eat today's bake."

"And you thought my line was bad," Noel grumbles. Sandi just grins.


End file.
